


Monster Erotica Vignette Inktober

by text_orc



Category: Original Work
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-26 02:00:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20922299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/text_orc/pseuds/text_orc
Summary: A series of single-post erotic tales, one for each day of October.





	1. Ring

TEE BEE CEE


	2. Mindless

"That's it. Good boy."

Subduing a rampaging dragon wasn't so very difficult, really. Not if you knew the right person for the job. And Sweeper was very much that person.

The wyrm had gorged himself on cattle and was lying down to digest when Sweeper came to him and offered terms. He was such a great, mighty beast, the witch explained, that they simply had to come pay respects with their hands and their mouth, and perhaps he'd like some entertainment to help his dinner go down.

The dragon, ever proud, had agreed; his cock, longer than Sweeper's arm and warm to the touch, seemed to swell and throb at the very notion. And, when they slathered him with the lubricating paste they'd brewed up, he was eager to see what his admirer could do.

And what Sweeper could do, better than anyone he'd had before, was tease. They stroked and stroked, always stopping just short of letting him spill his smouldering seed on the grass.

At first he'd been irritated. "Let me spray," he snarled, "or I'll eat you whole!" But they didn't let him spray, and gradually the endless cycle of edge and drop, edge and drop, started to take its toll.

He was barely conscious now, eyes half-lidded and vacant, but harder than ever as Sweeper's deft hands traced sigils of calm and peace on the tree-trunk-thick knot of his cock. When he did finally reach his peak, the spell would be complete, the threat quelled.

But perhaps Sweeper could get used to having such a mighty creature in their thrall.


	3. Bait

"Are you sure about this?"

Dr Sumwaran nodded as best he could as he pulled his sweater up over his head, dropping it in a heap on the forest floor. "To catch a satyr," he said, "you have to think like a satyr."

He started to unbuckle his belt, and Dr Campbell's heart skipped a beat. Her hands were at her collar perhaps a little too quickly. Both were naked within a minute, her soft, pale curves and his coppery, rail-thin frame well-lit by the beam of the battery lantern.

Dr Sumwaran smoothed out his sweater as a blanket and perched on it, cross-legged. He was shivering, though he tried to hide it. Dr Campbell followed suit, and shuffled in a little closer. "So now..." she said.

"Now we wait. It's the height of mating season, so the males will be eager. As soon as they catch our scent..." He smiled. "First contact with a Highland satyr clan. We'll be heroes."

Dr Campbell was smiling too. Gingerly, she traced two feather-light fingertips up Dr Sumwaran's thigh.

"Doctor," she asked, "is there anything we could do to _enhance_ our scent? You did say we should think like satyrs..."

Even in the lanternlight, the twitch of excitement was obvious.


	4. Freeze

"By the will of angels old and angels new..."

Kzurael snorted, pacing towards Mackenzie with their whole body poised to strike. **your charms cannot contain me, prey.**

She forged ahead, every word measured and well-practiced. "I compel you, the fiend Kzurael, to stay your wrath... and thus you are bound."

The hulking, jackal-headed demon took their last step into the chalk circle and stopped dead, trapped ready to pounce like a stuck DVD. His telepathic voice wicked through her mind, faded and staticky. **prey - you cannot - trickery - my brethren will feast on your -**

"There, there," said Mackenzie, stepping forward and stroked the stony ridges of Kzurael's forehead. "No need to beat yourself up. Even if you did walk right into my trap." She leaned in closer. "Just as I planned."

And, she thought, just as they'd agreed.

Kzu snarled in a way that made her weak at the knees. **bitch.**

Mackenzie tutted and pointed to the ground. "That's no way to talk to your new mistress. Down, pet."

Invisible hands dragged Kzu's frozen form down flat on the stone floor, pinning every joint. Only the seething pillar of unlight that jutted out between their thighs remained unbound.

Mackenzie lifted up her skirt, flashing Kzu a glimpse of the fat, dark lips beneath and laughing as they let out a telepathic whine of frustration. She straddled them and dropped into a squat just shy of their cock. "Don't be such a spoilsport, pet," she cooed. "We're going to have so much fun together."

Catching the fire in their eyes, she paused and broke character for a moment. "I love you so fucking much, you know that?"

**you too are loved, prey,** echoed their reply in the back of her mind. **now, have your way with your pet.**

Mackenzie nodded, breaking back into a wicked grin as she dragged her fingernails down his torso. "Let's see if you're worth the rites, shall we?"


	5. Build

Oona pulled her goggles back into place and reached into her toolbox for the soldering iron.

Judith lay sprawled beneath her, perfectly motionless in her maintenance state. Oona had pulled back the worn ceramic plating of her lover's shoulder, revealing the armature that lay beneath; there, nestled among wires upon wires, was a shiny new motive translator for her left arm. Oona gritted her teeth and took a deep breath.

Eight points of contact for eight different wires. Oona eased the first into place. The iron sparked as she brought it to bear, and she froze, fearing the worst, but Judith only let out a quiet, satisfied hum. Just enough solder, a moment to let it set, and then onto the next wire.

"So deft, so nimble, my Oona," sighed Judith, her ageing vocal synth buzzing as she spoke. "So wise to my body in all its ancient exhaustion." Tentatively, she turned her blue-lit gaze towards Oona. "Do you know," she said, "that no smith ever took such care with me before?"

The mechanic cracked a tiny smile as she adjusted the next wire. She had to doubt that she was better than seven hundred years of engineers before her, but the sentiment was sweet. And she did enjoy playing to it.

As the fifth wire fell into place, the clicks and whirs began. Judith's body was starting to accept its new piece, and the experience was, to her, euphoria. "Goddess with the iron," she crooned. "Make me whole again, you and your... your..." The voice was degrading to static, and this time Oona allowed herself a real smile; the cacophony built and built until, with the eighth wire finally in place and the solder cooling, it dropped to the low, polyphonic hum of a machine in perfect order.

Oona reached for the plating to set it back in place. "Wait," said Judith. "May I not repay my cunning lady of the spark?"

Judith's first movement with her newly restored arm was slipping its fingers into the waistband of Oona's shorts.


End file.
